Shades of the Emperor
by drowelvenblade
Summary: Commissar Aldezaar attempts to lead the Guard through a bloody assault on the orks.
1. Return

_"Who told you to die! Keep fighting!"_

_-Otto Xavier, Commissar_

Commissar Kasteriin Aldezaar of the 81st Brigade of the Imperial Guard was in a tight spot. He leaned out from behind the filing cabinet that was serving as his temporary shield from the intermittent bolter blasts being fired by the orks. He quickly withdrew his head as a trio of bolter shells clacked into the cabinet and detonated.

"Must be holding back for some reason," he thought, considering the fact that orks usually charged right into the fray, shouting and roaring in some sadistic glee. He took another look around the edge of the cabinet, this time firing off a couple of lasbolts from the pistol his hand had gotten nearly frozen to. He didn't expect them to connect.

The roof of the defense facility he and his squad had been supposed to protect had been blasted off by rockets from tankbusta boyz shortly before, as had a good deal of the north wall, exposing the building to the harsh wintery climate.

Then he saw the warboss. "Shades of the Emperor," he swore. It occurred to him that he wasn't going to make it off the planet alive. He looked at the corpses of the squad under his direct command, from the sergeant who had been alive and swearing and firing hellgun volleys into the ork runners to the techpriest who had been assigned to close the doors to the facility and had been wiped out in the resulting rocket detonations. None of them would ever make it off this Emperor-forsaken excuse for a planet, and neither, he expected, would he.

Then Kasteriin paused. He looked down at his body. It slowly occurred to him that he wasn't dead, ripped limb from limb, or being carried off screaming by orks to more horrible fates.

Given courage by this revelation, he peeked out once more from the cabinet barrier. Nothing. The orks were gone, running out of the facility, holding high a device that Aldezaar knew to contain the plans he was protecting. Now that the commissar had time to think about it, he realized that he had retreated in the face of the enemy, leaving the object undefended.

The walk back to the landing zone where any survivors would meet for dustoff was a long one, the effect heightened by the commissars knowledge of his failure weighing on his mind. Kasteriin didn't notice the wind, or the ice forming on his greatcoat and face. He didn't notice the hills even as he skirted them, slowly heading towards his destination. When he got to the LZ, the pilot in charge of picking up any survivors had already gotten there, and was smoking a cigar when Aldezaar approached. The pilot quickly snubbed out the cigar and put it in his pocket, aware of the serious implications of smoking in an officer's presence.

"What've we got, pilot?" asked the commissar.

"Well sir, we've got two kasrkin and…, one other," replied the pilot.

Kasteriin felt a twinge on anticipation, but if the pilot noticed, he didn't comment. "Who?" Kasteriin asked.

"Well… you see sir… he's one of the types… well… he's not wearing markings. All grey, sir. No tags."

Kasteriin raised his eyebrows. "An assassin?" The pilot nodded.

Kasteriin Aldezaar shuddered a little when he thought of the Assassins. When they were called in, it meant someone died. Just as often the assassin itself as its target. Assassins were devout kasrkin soldiers who, in their service to the Emperor, decided to master the sniper rifle and stealth and trek deep into enemy lines, with the commander of the enemy army as their target. They would take a shot from the most advantageous spot they could find, and attempt to get out. Many did not survive the journey back.

They were intimidating figures to be around, and if there was an Assassin on his way up, it meant that something was dead. Or, just as likely, something angry. Like an army.

"I think we should get out of here," Kasteriin said, "all the survivors that're coming are here now."

"Right you are sir," the pilot saluted, "dustoff's in two." The man took a last look around the LZ and climbed into the cockpit.

Aldezaar likewise climbed into the cabin portion of the dropship, sat down and buckled himself in. "Dustoff is in two, boys," he said to the other inhabitants of the cabin, "say your goodbyes, we're not coming back here anytime soon."

The commissar took a moment to observe the two kasrkin soldiers. They had obviously seen some tough times, likely handed to them by some orks. One wore a sergeant's stripes and a couple of scars, but the other looked like a new promotion.

The training undergone by guardsmen to be promoted to full-fledged kasrkin tactical assault troopers was long and difficult, but it ensured that only the best made it through. The men were equipped with the kasrkin standard issue long-range lasgun and a heavy-duty grenade launcher apiece for distraction and anti-vehicle weaponry. Fragmentation grenades and night vision goggles with scopes completed their inventory. Both men were shot up, but not badly injured. They were, however, visibly exhausted, and the less-senior man looked ready to drop.

In an attempt to break their stupor, Kasteriin said, "How many men were in your squad, sergeant?" He quickly realized that this probably wasn't a very helpful thing to say in this point in time, but, he thought, it was good to accept these things.

"Four other than what you see here, sir," said the sergeant, "none of 'em vets in the kasrkins, either. We were hit by orks when the station fell, and took a longer route through the hills to get here. There were so many they couldn't help but hit us. Their shots were bouncing off one another."

Kasteriin nodded. He didn't doubt the truth of the sergeant's statements, just the sergeant's wisdom, in bringing his squad of six near what was obviously an ork camp.

He cast a glance towards the assassin; a figure dressed in an unremarkable light grey, sitting in the back of the cabin, and said to the sergeant, "I'm sure your men will be remembered. Try and get some sleep, we probably won't be able to on board our cruiser."

The engines heated up and they took off. The ride through the atmosphere was bumpy, but unhindered, as it appeared that they had not been followed. The dropship headed towards an Imperial cruiser settled in low orbit. It was a large sleek ship, designed for battle in space and glassing planets. When they docked, they headed out single file.

Aldezaar stayed back to speak to the pilot, and waited until the pilot was finished directing a techpriest to check his ship. The pilot saw the commissar looking at him and walked over. Aldezaar noted that there was nothing odd about the pilot's walk, which was odd in itself. Most pilots had cybernetic implants of some kind, usually neural, or sometimes in the legs or arms for steadiness. Kasteriin knew he had more than a few of those himself.

"I wanted to thank you for the enjoyable flight," said Kasteriin.

The pilot laughed revealing a mouthful of well-kept teeth. "Thank you, sir," he said. "The way those kasrkin were talking before, I thought we were going to be attacked by an enormous, screamin' horde of orks at any moment."

"Yes," agreed Kasteriin, "but aren't we the lucky ones to come out of there." He sighed.

Just then, a clear, low voice with mechanical undertones went ringing through his head, and he recognized it as coming from his neuro-audio implants. Aldezaar held up a finger to dismiss the pilot and listened to the summons.

"Commissar Kasteriin Aldezaar," it said subliminally, "please report immediately to meeting room H-21 Block 4 Deck B. Repeat. Report immediately to meeting room H-21 Block 4 Deck B. Acknowledge please."

"Kasteriin Aldezaar H-21 4-B," he replied, knowing that his neural nodes would pick up his speech patterns and transmit them as an acknowledgment to the senior techpriests on the bridge.

Aldezaar sighed. He knew this would have to happen. After all, he did fail to protect the plans he was posted to protect. It was always just a matter of time, and now his time was up.

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_Writer's Indulgence- _Well, that was fun, I fully intend to put it in more context in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and hopefully you'll review.


	2. Preparation

"_And we shall fight, and those above us shall know glory, and the Imperium shall continue."_

_-Imperial Guard proverb of war_

Commissar Kasteriin Aldezaar walked through the hallways of the _Lamnia Imperium_, an Imperial cruiser in low orbit over Norix IV, headed for a meeting. This wasn't a meeting he was looking forward to. He took a lift up to deck B, landed in Block 2a, and decided to walk. He consulted a floor plan on the wall and deliberately did not take the quickest route, through Block 2e, but instead took a slower route through 2f and 3a which, he noted, were mainly comprised of offices containing rapidly meditating techpriests, busily facilitating the designs of the higher-ups.

Aldezaar passed no one in the corridors and eventually reached the meeting room in Block 4h, blatantly labeled **H-21** in heavy, bold type. The door was Imperium regulation, opened by means of a flash panel to the right which scanned the implants all personnel received on their hands. Aldezaar paused a moment to think of what he was going to say, drew a blank, and placed his hand on the flash panel. The door slid open. The interior of the room was largely occupied by a long light grey table surrounded by chairs.

Seated at one end of the table was Admiral Stovan and to his sides were high ranked techpriest officials. The admiral was a large man with slightly beady eyes and a large grey moustache. The techpriests were slightly unremarkable, simply covered in mechanical implants. There was a small data pad on the table in front of one of the techpriests. There was also a recorder in a corner.

"Sit down, Commissar," said the admiral.

"Thank you sir," said Kasteriin, taking a seat away from the techpriests.

"Commissar, we would like to discuss the occurrences on Norix IV. The facility you and your squad were assigned to defend was…," the admiral paused.

"Demolished, sir," stated Kasteriin.

"Demolished. And the plans you were intended to defend were taken, presumably."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Commissar, now that the orks have the design plans for our skiff, what do you, personally, think they will do with them?"

"Sir, I think that the orks will attempt to construct a prototype, sir. I think they will fail, sir. I am not trying to excuse my actions, sir," Kasteriin said. His mind was racing. From what he had seen of them, they were not complicated designs. There was little doubt that the orks could employ them for their own uses.

"I am sure, do y'hear me, sure that the orks can, and will utilize these plans!" the admiral shouted, "I am having trouble restraining myself from demoting you immediately, Commissar." The admiral's face was set in a grimace. "We have little choice, Commissar. We cannot afford to let those pack-rats build a fleet of Imperial skiffs, d'you understand me? They were supposed to be like the Marines' dreadnoughts with maneuverability!"

The techpriests to either side of the admiral were practically seething, Aldezaar noticed. They must've been designers. "I understand you sir. I apologize to you, sir, and to the Imperium. I do not expect a light punishment, sir," said Aldezaar, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"Oh, you're not getting one, Commissar, that's why you're here. If I had you, I'd have you placed on a charge, but the Generals seem to like you. You're going to retrieve those plans," The admiral's eyes were gleaming, he was obviously pleased with the idea. "You're taking a squad of kasrkin and a couple techpriests back to the planet and setting up a small base," He had a malicious smile playing around his lips. "Personally, I hope you don't make it. Pick up your orders from Cyriam on your way out. Dismissed." The admiral pointed to the techpriest to his left who picked up the data pad and headed towards the door.

Kasteriin Aldezaar went to the door and the techpriest handed him the data pad. "You're assigned to Barrien Valley," said the techpriest, "you will meet your squad and accompanying techpriests in the hangar bay after a sleep cycle in 16 hours. Be prepared." The techpriest walked back to the table.

Kasteriin took a lift to the quarters assigned to him on the data pad. All the quarters were the same. No one was ever in one place long enough to bother changing the décor. For example, all personal quarters had a bed set against the wall farthest from the door, they all had a dresser containing two of each uniform, uniforms were stored according to rank, and only personnel of the appropriate rank could open the appropriate drawers. The washrooms were all in the same place. And they all had a weapons rack.

The rack contained a variety of weapons, including a chainsword, a hellgun, plasma pistols, a long-range lasgun for kasrkin who did not carry their own, a grenade launcher and a plasma sword. All guardsmen had a lasgun as a sidearm and were unable to take down the power sword, as it was reserved for fully-equipped officers. Other guns like flamers, meltas and sniper rifles were specially assigned and granted at mission launch. Officers who were granted use of power fists carried their own. Usually soldiers were assigned weapons they would bring on a mission, but Kasteriin was granted use of whatever weapons took his fancy.

Kasteriin chose a plasma sword, a hellgun for armor-piercing bullets and his sidearm. He had two combat knives, one strapped to his arm and the other to his waist. He would have to see what he could do about obtaining a power fist. He had always wanted one of those. They were hydraulic powered gauntlets in disruptive energy fields, and merely to have one was a mark of status. He placed the weapons he had chosen on the dresser, stripped to his underlayer and went to sleep.

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**"General, I hope your trust in him as a commander is well-placed. I for one do not think so highly of him." The speaker's voice was strained, as if they were trying not to shout.**

**The second speaker was calmer, "Nonsense, he has served us well, you know the Commissariat selects them from youth. He was given an impossible mission, and you are so quick to judge him?"**

**The voice was tense, "Sir, with respect, you could have given him a less fundamentally important impossible mission."**

**"I still have confidence in him. Regardless, if he fails, the orks will rush in with our design. Surely you recognize the flaw." The speaker spoke slowly and deliberately, as if weighing every word before they said it.**

**"Of course sir, we've built it, so we know what to combat it with, but nonetheless, sir, you can't possibly have enough confidence in him to send him in alone!"**

**"He won't be alone, he can request forces as he likes. I'm sure he won't squander them."**

**"Sir, I would like to volunteer."**

**"Are you sure? A moment ago you were making it out to be a suicide mission."**

**"Sir, I live for suicide missions. I just felt uncomfortable with him in charge."**

**"Get used to it. There might be promotions in this for both of you. Anyway, the plans wouldn't do the orks much good."**

**"Sir?" Puzzlement hung tangibly in the air.**

**"They're incomplete. We kept the three sections separate, two were captured, but one was saved. The only thing I'm worried about is if the orks decide to try and make it run by themselves."**

**"You could have given me complete information."**

**"It's truly a pity the orks invaded so quickly."**

**"Sir, you're avoiding the subject."**

**"Just convince me you're classified to know all this. We're not even telling the admirals. I'm only telling you because I'm not sure how much clearance you have in the temple, and because you're going."**

**"If I don't convince you, sir?"**

**"We'll get the psykers to mindwipe you. It won't take long."**

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	3. Good Luck, Commissar

"_On this day, by my hand, the enemy shall know death"_

_-General Jaeyre Kahlder_

Commissar Kasteriin Aldezaar woke after a 12-hour sleep cycle feeling more refreshed than he had in all his days on Norix IV. He had only 6 hours before he was reassigned back down to the planet. He remembered the area of the briefing containing his armaments assignment. It had said; unrestricted access.

Kasteriin took the weapons he had selected previously and slid them into various holsters. He put on a fresh commissariat uniform, with its red and black greatcoat and large black hat and took a lift to the armory. The corporal on desk duty was looking extremely bored when he arrived. Kasteriin strode purposefully to the desk, "I'm here to acquire a power fist."

"Authorization, Commissar?" replied the corporal. He looked slightly interested, this was probably the most taxing thing he was going to do all day. He took the proffered data pad and looked at the authorization data. The corporal's eyes widened slowly. "Interesting," he said, "your authorization looks sound, Commissar. Come with me, and we'll fit you out."

"Thank you," replied Kasteriin. They headed into the armory, a room covered in weapon racks and assembly tables.

"Come this way, please," said the corporal. They walked through an aisle displaying weapons and technology scavenged from _xeno_. Kasteriin stopped and looked at the weapons arranged on a shelf. There were several Eldar fusion guns and Shuriken Catapults, Gauss rifles from several encounters with Necrons and Kroot rifles from the Tau. Aldezaar looked them over for a moment and then went with the corporal. They came to the end of the row, and went towards a table with several power gloves on them. "I don't think a fist would be appropriate, but we can outfit you with a power glove. Which hand would you like it on?"

"My left hand," said the Commissar.

"Alright. It can crush an object with a mass of up to forty-five kilograms, so if you're going to be holding a weapon, be careful with it. Also, the switch triggering the energy field is on the back of the hand," stated the corporal.

"Fine," said Kasteriin grimly, "I expect I won't need nearly that much pressure to crush an ork skull."

"No sir, I expect you won't," said the corporal, giving him a grim smile in return.

"Thank you, son," Kasteriin said, taking the glove. He put it on his left hand and flexed. He noticed with satisfaction that it was almost a perfect fit. Satisfying himself that the hydraulics operating the glove worked perfectly, he pressed the switch for the disruptive energy field with his right hand. A second later, a barely visible field of shimmering particles surrounded the glove. Kasteriin moved his gloved hand near the table and it melted slightly, a think trail of smoke drifting up from where the energy field had grazed the table. "I'm going to enjoy having this," Kasteriin grinned, "I wanted to ask you something, corporal."

"Yes, sir?"

"Am I allowed to take a _xeno_ weapon?" Kasteriin could hardly keep the excitement out of his voice.

"A _xeno_ weapon, sir? What type exactly?" The corporal was beginning to look uneasy.

"Oh, nothing to get you in trouble, corporal, I was thinking… perhaps an Eldar fusion rifle."

"A fusio-" Kasteriin cut the corporal off in mid-exclamation.

"Unrestricted access, son, that's what it says on my authorization, now shall I take the rifle, or shall we involve your lieutenant?" A smile was playing along Kasteriin's lips, now that he knew he would have what he liked.

"Uh, no sir, no trouble, sir. You can have what you like, sir," stammered the corporal.

"Good lad. I thought so," said the Commissar, "now hold onto this for me, I can't carry it all." He handed the corporal his hellgun, patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and strode off towards the aisle of _xeno_ weapons before the man could argue. He carefully picked out what looked to be one of the more powerful Eldar fusion rifles and spent the next three minutes trying to find a place to carry it. He eventually settled for cutting open a sniper rifle bandolier pilfered from the next rack and slipping it across one shoulder so he could carry the rifle on his back. Satisfied, he left the armoury.

He noted that he still had three and a half hours before he was meant to meet his squad, so he went to the Commissar's mess. There were only two other officers in the mess hall, and he knew neither of them, so he chose a food replicator and sat down to a plate of _borumm_ and _ledda_, a dish consisting of meat from a large, ponderous, harmless animal with a crushed starchy root vegetable in a thick, salty, orange sauce. He finished, put his plate and tray into a cleaner on the side of the replicator, and returned to his room.

He again took off his holsters and stripped his clothes, and this time took a long shower, reveling in the warmth of the water in comparison to the carefully controlled temperature of the station. When he finished, he dressed, rebuckled his holsters and headed for the Hall of Records. He spent the next few hours carefully reviewing recent engagements with the orks in preparation for his strike. It seemed that the orks, these orks at least, were more oriented and disciplined. They were focusing on primary objectives. That was unusual, especially because the average ork mob would charge into the fray regardless of the stacked odds.

In the vids they were making right for their goals, which meant that the goals would have to be well defended. He watched as time and time again, the commanders were forced to pull forces from the frontline to defend their vital areas. This ultimately made the frontline ineffective, and it occurred to him that there was no use to having a rearguard if the frontline no longer existed. He watched as every time, the Guard frontline was overrun by a horde of greenskins.

He looked the time, and saw that he was almost due in the hangar bay to drop to ground. He replaced the vids he was watching and headed to the hangar bay. When he arrived, his squad had not yet assembled, so he sat down on a loading crate to wait. After about five minutes, he was approached by two lesser techpriests, wearing dark, hooded robes.

"Commissar Aldezaar?" one asked in a tone that implied that he already knew the answer.

"Yes," said Kasteriin.

"We are assigned to aid you in deploying a suitable base camp for your endeavor," said the spokesman for the two, "we hope you fins this suitable. I am Joran, and he is Hawsey." The second techpriest nodded.

By this time, the squad had assembled, looking fully equipped. Kasteriin spotted a man with a melta and two with sniper rifles. He got up. "Attention! So you're the squad of heroes who's going to take back the military secrets, eh?" he barked, "sergeant! Step forward!"

The kasrkin sergeant took a quick step forward. "Kasrkin squad, ready for war, Commissar, sir!" shouted the sergeant.

"Well met, sergeant. At your ease, men. You all know the briefing, I take it?" said Kasteriin, addressing the squad.

There was a collective voicing of, "Yes, sir!".

"You look prepared enough, good lad there with the melta. You all ready?"

Another group shout, "Yes, sir!"

"Alright lads, let's get us some orks!" They piled into the dropship, and Aldezaar addressed the sergeant. "Sergeant," he said, "is this all your men?"

"Yes, sir, except for that one," he pointed to a man wearing a full-face helmet and carrying a sniper rifle.

Aldezaar approached the man the sergeant had indicated. "You sure you're in the right place, soldier?" he said.

The man turned to look at him. Aldezaar could not see his face behind the tinted helmet. "I've been assigned to your mission, Commissar," he stated, and handed Kasteriin a data pad.

Kasteriin inspected the data pad. "Vindicare…," he muttered, then it dawned on him. "They gave me an Assassin?"

"That's right, Commissar, I have been assigned to aid your cause. But you had better use me well, because as far as I know, I outrank you. Sir."

Kasteriin didn't feel threatened, just insulted. "Don't worry," he said, "there'll be enough for us all to do out there."

He took a seat, and gave the pilot the ok to take off. They lifted off, and dropped towards Barrien Valley.


End file.
